Author: Breda Fay

Bitter to live in times like these.
While God declines beyond the seas;
Instead, man, king or peasantry,
Raises his gross authority.

When he thinks God has gone away
Man takes up his sword to slay
His brother; we can hear death’s roar.
It shadows the hovels of the poor.

Like the old songs they left behind,
We hung our harps in the willows again.
Ballads of boys blow on the wind,
Their blood is mingled with the rain.

A Little Boy In The Morning Poem by Francis Ledwidge

 He will not come, and still I wait.
He whistles at another gate
Where angels listen. Ah I know
He will not come, yet if I go
How shall I know he did not pass
barefooted in the flowery grass?

The moon leans on one silver horn
Above the silhouettes of morn,
And from their nest-sills finches whistle
Or stooping pluck the downy thistle.
How is the morn so gay and fair
Without his whistling in its air?
The world is calling, I must go.
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted in the shining grass?

Soliloquay by Francis Ledwidge

When I was young I had a care
Lest I should cheat me of my share
Of that which makes it sweet to strive
For life, and dying still survive,
A name in sunshine written higher
Than lark or poet dare aspire.

But I grew weary doing well.
Besides, ’twas sweeter in that hell,
Down with the loud banditti people
Who robbed the orchards, climbed the steeple
For jackdaws’ eyes and made the cock
Crow ere ’twas daylight on the clock.
I was so very bad the neighbours
Spoke of me at their daily labours.

And now I’m drinking wine in France,
The helpless child of circumstance.
To-morrow will be loud with war,
How will I be accounted for?

It is too late now to retrieve
A fallen dream, too late to grieve
A name unmade, but not too late
To thank the gods for what is great;
A keen-edged sword, a soldier’s heart,
Is greater than a poet’s art.
And greater than a poet’s fame
A little grave that has no name.

For the Fallen

by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

‘Reflections on two visits to Mametz Wood – 1916 and 1984.’

By Harry Fellows

Shattered trees and tortured earth
The acrid stench of decay
Of mangled bodies lying around
The battle not far away,
This man made devastation
Does man have no regrets?
Does he pause to ask the question?
Will the birds sing again in Mametz?
This Welsh lad lying near my feet
With blood matted auburn hair,
Was his father proud when he went to the war?
Did his mother shed a tear?
Did he leave a girl behind him?
Awaiting the postman’s knock,
Oh, the sadness when they learn of his death,
Dear God, help them to bear the shock.

That German boy, his bowels astrew
Fought for his Fatherland,
That he fought to the end is obvious
A stick bomb is still in his hand.
Did he hate us as much as we thought?
Was our enmity so just,
On his belt an insignia, ‘GOTT MIT UNS’,
Did not the same God favour us?
As far as the eye can see
Dead bodies cover the earth,
The death of a generation
Condemned to die at birth,
When comes the day of reckoning
Who will carry the can?
For this awful condemnation,
Of man’s inhumanity to man!

What a wondrous pleasant sight
Unfolds before my eyes,
A panoply of magnificent trees
Stretching upwards to the skies,
Did someone help Dame Nature?
The sins of man to forget,
Where once there was war, now peace reigns supreme,
And the birds sing again in Mametz.

Day 4 Sunday 15^th June

After a hearty breakfast, we checked out of the hotel and met Iain in Reception for our short walk to the museum in the Grote Markt. In Flanders Fields Museum is located in the Lakenhallen (Cloth Hall).  In 1998 the original Ypres Salient Memorial Museum was refurbished and renamed In Flanders Fields Museum.

The consequences of war as felt by the civilian population is a major theme of the In Flanders Fields Museum. All around Ypres  there’s a unique public art project called “The Lost Key” (De Verloren Sleutel) which commemorates civilian victims of WW1. Bronze keys, each engraved with the name, date of death, and age of a civilian casualty, are placed on the streets in locations significant to their deaths. The project aims to make these civilian victims visible in the memorial landscape of Ypres. 

You are asked to question yourself about why you are visiting? I firmly believe in remembering the good and bad about the past – the bad as a way of trying to ensure we don’t go there again! Hence my trips to Krakow, Normandy,…

The museum focused on the stories of individuals within the larger picture of the Great War. These personal stories are told through many and varied objects on display, interactive installations and life-like characters such as the personal description of the Christmas Truce told by a Belgian, British, French and German soldier (holograms). The life of the medical corps at the front was related through holograms as well. The plight of the “shot at dawns” which I hadn’t heard about till yesterday was explained. Desertion, or absence without leave, was considered one of the worst offences possible as a member of the British and Commonwealth Armies during World War 1. As such, it was punishable by death. 306 men, many of whom were still teenagers, were shot at dawn by their comrades between 1914 and 1919.

I was fascinated by the journaling many of the soldiers did on their breaks from fighting. This included writing, drawing, mapping often in very fine detail.

Our time in Ypres was almost at an end. How could I go home without sampling a roadside beer, a local street delicacy, a sausage roll and sitting to watch ladies semi finals in beach volleyball.

I retrieved my case from luggage room and hit for the Menin Gate one last time, this time to meet the coach for the trip to Brussels.

A long wait for flights was probably the only thing I would find fault with on the holiday!

Day 3 Sat 14^th June

Francis Ledwidge Grave

Our first visit today was to the memorial and grave of Irish Poet Francis Ledwidge in Artillery Wood Cemetery, near to the place where he was killed with his crew while repairing a road. Francis Ledwidge 1887 -1917 was born in Slane, County Meath. He was from a poor background and was a great friend of Thomas McDonagh and Joseph Mary Plunkett. Despite being a Nationalist, he enlisted in the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers in 1914 and served in Gallipoli and Greece with the 10th Irish Division before being killed on the Western Front in 1917. His group had stopped for a tea break when a German shell landed. A chaplain arriving on the scene soon after wrote: “Ledwidge killed, blown to bits”.

I like Ledwidge’s poetry and had read some of it again the night before. The Welsh Poet Hedd Wynn is also buried at Artillery Wood Cemetery

Langemark German Cemetery

This is a very different cemetery to those we have been visiting the last few days. As in Normandy last year, the German cemeteries seem to be more austere.

Willows grow along the street side like a guard of honour. The sculpture group by Emil Krieger of four mourning soldiers standing with their backs against the wall, at the back of the mass grave is reminiscent of the Grieving Parents statue in Cologne. Looking at it from a distance you can sense the sadness of these men looking at the mass grave and considering the value of life. Around the mass grave containing 25,000 soldiers are blocks with 68 bronze panels bearing the names of more than 17.000 unidentified persons. The names are arranged alphabetically.

On the higher part of the cemetery there are three restored German concrete pill boxes, partly above ground with the entrances facing the German line.

I was particularly taken with the monument at the carpark. 250 blacksmiths from all over the world organised an event for the centenary of WW1 in the Peace City of Ypres. There is a negative/positive single poppy at the top and at the base there are 2016 poppies, with one white poppy symbolising the executed soldiers.

Children from local schools were invited to learn some blacksmith skills and their poppies were incorporated into 2 wreaths.

Tyne Cot Cemetery

Tyne Cot (Tyneside Cottages), situated on the Passchendaele Ridge is the largest Commonwealth war cemetery in the world. It’s difficult to take in the sheer number of graves – almost 12,000 graves and 35,000 names of soldiers who have no graves on the wall at the back of the cemetery.  It’s almost beyond comprehension that there are so many lost lives in one cemetery.

Even the angels mourned – two mourning angels are situated  at each end of the wall on pavilions which were actually built over German pillboxes.

Hill 62

This is the ID of the ridge and its height above sea leve as marked on the on ordinance maps of the time. It was an area of heaviest fighting in 1915.

Jacques Schier’s indoor and outdoor museum is amazing. The building houses a Café/Snack bar, bookstall, souvenir shop and viewing cabinets with the most horrific photographs 0f bodies of people and animals, body parts, and all of them in the deep mud that was everywhere, tableaus of medical areas, shelters, etc.

At the back you walk through rusty hardware that is barely held together. (Irish H/S certainly would not allow a walk through!!!) And then to the zig zag maze of trenches, the floors soaked and muddy because of the rain last night, making it easier to imagine the stench of death, the rats, the all-pervading mud and the misery of four years of war.

The reality that this was a war site was clearly illustrated with the live shell that had been found that morning in a nearby field, left at the roadside to be collected and detonated later.

16^th Irish Division Memorial, Wytschaete

We stopped for a short time to see the Memorial for the 16^th Irish Division next to the Wytschaete Cemetery. The inscription on the memorial reads: “In commemoration of victory at Wytschaete June 7^th 1917. In memory of those who fell therein, and of all Irishmen who gave their lives in the Great War.

Hyde Corner Memorial/ Berks Cemetery

It was really interesting to see among the graves here one of a young German Jew. Bet his family never thought of the value that would be on Jewish lives 20 years on. There was an interesting inscription on the grave of J Harris age 20 whose parents had inscribed on the headstone: ”Son of Thomas and Margaret Harris, 306 Blarney Street, Cork, Ireland”. Two underage boys were also buried in this cemetery aged 16 and 17. The inscriptions lend such humanity an pathos to the cemeteries.

Island of Ireland Peace Park

Páirc Síochána d’Oileán na hÉireann le tacaíocht ó mhuintir Messines thóg Iontabhas Aistear an Athmhuintearais an Túr Síochána seo arna thiomnú dóibh siúd uile ó Oileán na hÉireann a throid agus a d’éag sa Chéad Chogadh Domhanda

There is a huge amount of symbolism in the park.

The tower, built in the shape of the traditional Round Tower, is constructed from stones from the Mullingar Workhouse symbolising the suffering poor. At 11am on the 11^th day of the 11^th month, Remembrance Day, the interior of the tower is illuminated by the sun (Newgrange solstice-like). Funding for the park came from governments north and south of the border symbolising their unity in celebrating the soldiers of the Great War.

Approaching the tower, there are three pillars giving the numbers of those killed, wounded and missing of each division.

36th (Ulster Division): 32,186

10th (Irish) Division: 9,363

16th (Munster) Division 28,398

• There is a Wishing Well inscribed with a peace wish in 24 langauges
• There are 9 talking stones illustrating the words from poems and letters written during the war. Some samles-

Words of Tom Kettle: So here, while the mad guns curse overhead,
And tired men sigh with mud for couch and floor,
Know that we fools, now with the foolish dead,
Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor,—
But for a dream, born in a herdsman’s shed,
And for the secret Scripture of the poor.

Words of Francis Ledwidge: “It is too late now to retrieve a fallen dream, too late to grieve a name unmade, but not too late to thank the Gods for what is great. A keen edged sword, a soldier’s heart is greater than a poet’s art. And greater than a poet’s fame a little grave that has no name.”

Words of William Orpen: I mean
The simple soldier man
Who when the war was first began

Words of David Starrett, 9th Irish Rifles: Just died, done dead
From lumps of lead in mire So the curtain fell,
over that tortured country of unmarked graves
and unburied fragments of men
Murder and massacre
The innocent slaughtered
For the guilty
The poor man
For the sake of the greed of the already rich
The man of no authority
Made the victim of the man
Who had gathered importance
and wished to keep it

Willie Redmond’s Grave and Locre Hospice Cemetery

Among the countless war graves along the Western Front, Willie Redmond’s is accidentally unique, shaped as a cross and standing alone in a field. His comrades are buried nearby, in the small Locre Hospice Cemetery with the more conventional headstones of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

A nationalist firebrand in youth, he mellowed in middle age to support Irish Home Rule within the empire. When in 1914, his brother John called on the movement’s members to enlist as a demonstration of good faith, Willie signed up, although age would have excused him.

Because of who he was, he would have been kept as far away from danger as possible. However, he insisted on being with his men and was soon wounded. A younger man might have survived, but being 56 and out of condition, Redmond died the same day. There is a memorial on by roadside where he was shot portraying the stretcher bearer, Private John Meekes carrying Redmond from the battlefield.

After the war, when the CWGC sought to move the local dead to a centralised cemetery, Redmond’s widow preferred to leave his grave alone, under the care of nuns. It is now a tourist attraction

Before my nightly visit to the Menin Gate, I decided this evening to walk the ramparts.

After visiting the Rampart Cemetery (and seeing the Brent Goose Family) I strolled along the 2km ramparts enjoying the breeze after days of heat, and reading the information panels along the way. There were also some lovely sculptures. I might have missed the really interesting info panels at the Menin Gate but for the walk. A band played at the ceremony this evening (Danny Boy and Abide with Me) as well as the trumpeters and piper. Just as moving as the first night – maybe more as there was no jostle to see – just to be there.

Had dinner with a lovely Kiwi couple this evening. They had just been to Ireland and were delighted to talk about it. Also interested in hearing about the Somme where they would be going tomorrow.

DAY 2 Friday 13^th June

The Somme

33°C was forecasted for today so we were glad to board the air conditioned coach for the trip to the Somme.

Fr Gleeson at Rue du Bois

Our first stop was at Rue du Bois where an almost insignificant little cross with a laminated newspaper article marks the site where Irish Fr Frances Gleeson gave a last general absolution to the Munster Fusiliers on the eve of battle of Aubers Ridge.

A picture of this absolution was requested by the commanding officers wife and painted by Fortunino Matania. The battalion suffered heavily in the battle. Andy, one of our fellow travellers’ great-grand-uncle was one of the soldiers who stood here and later was killed.

Guillemont

As we looked out at the beautiful rolling hills on the way to Guillemnt, Iain told us that this was the scene of some of the heaviest fighting in the war.  And yet Guillemont now was a calm little town of a few houses and a red bricked church. Two memorials stand outside the church, the village’s memorial to its war dead, and a granite replica the famous Ginchy Cross, an Irish Cross to commemorate the victory of the 16th Irish Division in the Battles of Guillemont and Ginchy in September 1916. There were more than 5,000 casualties as the Irish attacked into a hurricane of steel and lead for 10 days. Guillemont was taken in this “battle of little tactical sense and of negligible impact on the war”. (Irish Times)

It was during this battle that 18-year-old Lieut Emmet d’Alton witnessed the death of Tom Kettle, the former Home Rule MP, the same d’Alton who as a 24-year-old major general in the Free State army, cradled the head of the dying Michael Collins at Beal na Bláth.

Other interesting facts about Guillemont:

You could not imagine that you would find the colours of the rainbow inside the drab little church. Look up and you see the ornately painted roof with images of shamrocks and other symbols and the words: C’est ma paix que je vous donne. The left rear of the church has a marble memorial to the 16th Division and a statue of St Patrick.

Something much more surprising was on the baptistry rails opposite – a large photograph of a German soldier, Ernst Junger and an account of his life here, erected by the community in a spirit of magnanimity. He was an officer during the battle but while his entire unity was wiped out, he survived. Jünger was a war diarist, author of Storm of Steel, described by Charles Moore in the Daily Telegraph as “the greatest war memoir I have ever read “. During WW2 he did great work on behalf of Jews, hiding them and helping them to escape.

The community of Guillemont has also named the street above the church the Rue Ernst Jünger, and the street below the Rue de la 16E div. Irlandaise.

Lochnagar Crater

This impressive crater lies on private land and is maintained by donations. It was created by the detonation of a huge mine which had been laid be tunnelers under the German line. The explosion here took place July 1^st 1916 and marked the start of the Battle of the Somme.

There is a boardwalk around the crater with a small plaque commemorating someone who fought in a war. There are also information panels with some lovely stories of families and pre- and post- war lives. https://www.lochnagarcrater.org/history/lochnagar-labyrinth/panels-6-10/

Lochnnagar once the bloodiest square mile of ground, the largest crater made in anger by man, now aspires to be a place of peace, remembrance and reconciliation.

The Lochnagar Promise For Peace:

‘In Remembrance of all those
who have suffered in conflict,
and of those who are suffering still,
may we live our lives today with more
Compassion and Kindness,
Understanding and Forgiveness,
Reconciliation and Unity.
Let us now, in their honour,
wage Peace.’

Thiepval Memorial

We stopped at the Thiepval Memorial for lunch, sharing a picnic table with some young secondary school tourists. They had all been given a name to research and now had to find it on the memorial. They were particularly taken with the fact that Pte Reginald Giles age 14 was the youngest soldier to die, younger than any of themselves.

Thiepval is the largest memorial to the missing from any war. 72,000 names are inscribed. The loss of life at the Somme was catastrophic, beyond imagination, these lists and lists of names are just incomprehensible.

Here are recorded names of officers  and men of the British Armies who fell on the Somme battlefields July 1915 February 1918 but to whom the fortune of war denied the known and honoured burial given to their comrades in death.

Like the students we lunched with, I too was looking for a name,  Tom Kettle (think I impressed Iain by asking about him and luckily he was at hand or I’d still be there reading the 72,000 names!) So why Tom Kettle? He was a Dubliner, reportedly ‘one of the most brilliant minds of his generation in Ireland’, a qualified barrister, a poet, a prolific writer and an MP for East Tyrone. I first read about him as a supporter of Dublin’s locked out workers during the strike in 1913. He joined the Irish Volunteers but rallied to the call to defend Belgium against German invasion.  during his days at the Somme he said: If I live, I mean to spend the rest of my life working for perpetual peace. I have seen war and faced artillery and know what an outrage it is against simple men.

His last words were reputedly :“Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor/But for a dream, born in a herdsman’s shed/and for the secret Scripture of the poor.”

Ulster Tower

The Ulster Tower is a memorial to the 36^th Ulster Division. It stands on what was the German front line during the Battle of the Somme. It was a strongly fortified position which the Ulster Division captured

I think we were all at information overload at this stage and so hot that we bought cold drinks and ice-creams, and taking chairs we sat in the shade of the trees and admired the tower. My phone was dead so no more photos till this evening.

We did take a quick dash to visit the small chapel in the tower where there were pictures of and plaques from various towns around the north and a plaque at the door commemorating the nine men of the Division who were awarded the Victoria Cross

Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial

Almost an entire regiment were slaughtered on the first day of the Battle of Beaumont-Hamel. The objective of the day was to break through the German lines. The Newfoundlanders had already marched for 5 hours when expected to cross the half mile of exposed front. The chances for success were almost non-existent as the Germans were dug-in in deep trenches. Within half an hour 733 of the 801 were killed.

A bronze Caribou Stag was erected in the park and the names of all those who died are inscribed on the monument.

Pozieres Windmill – unplanned stop for Mick the Aussie

The windmill was situated on high ground and was used from September 1914 as a German field artillery observation post and command post. The views were magnificent to the front and rear of this position.

On 1st July 1916 the British offensive had failed in its attempt to capture the position. The 1st ANZAC Corps arrived on the Somme battlefront on 14th July and captured Pozières village. The Irish Division, from Witschaet succeeded in securing the windmill.

The windmill was gradually smashed up by French and then British artillery fire. It was eventually reduced to a pile of rubble. Remains of the windmill and the German blockhouse have been left and grassed over, leaving the undulating ground as a preserved battlefield site at this place.

Tank Corp Memorial, Pozieres

This memorial is just across the road from the Windmill site. In 1919 the Tank Corps applied for permission to put up a memorial on this site comprising a granite obelisk on a plinth with four models of tanks.

Back to Ypres

Attended Menin Gate ceremony again this evening. I didn’t need as good a vantage point as yesterday. A piper also played this evening making it a bit different! Still very moving.

Took suggestion of Hotel for Traditional Restaurant in Grote Markt. All the trad dishes seem to be stew and with 33 degrees heat couldn’t be tempted. So asked for House salad – I should have photoed – enormous – but I managed it. Wine helped!

Watched some BEACH VOLLEYBALL – could you imagine this in Naas??

Day 1 Thurs 12^th June

Memorial Museum, Passchendaele & Menin Gate Memorial

We arrived in Brussels Airport just after 9am and met with our fellow travelers (15) and our guide Iain.

We had a (very) lengthy intro to WW1 on the bus as we travelled to the towns of Zonnebeke and Passchendaele. I had read a little about the Salient, the 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd battles of Ypres and the importance of the ridges but it’s not really until you see the topography that you realise what much of it means. The ridges are barely visible and yet control of them was crucial.

This knowledge is presented in the Military Memorial Museum (LEFT CAMERA ON BUS SO NO PHOTOS) which is devoted to the Battle of Passchendaele (also known as the 3^rd battle of Ypres). The museum is housed in a restored chateau surrounded by the most beautiful grounds. I walked through the “Trench Experience” on my own, perhaps the best way to capture the experience. I also liked the underground gallery which concentrated on remembrance – with many letters and videos of veteran memories.

During the British attack of 1917, there were 500,000 casualties in a 100 days for a gain of 5 miles of territory. Passchendaele became an international symbol of senseless military violence in its most cruel form.

We were all delighted to get to the hotel to shower and rest after our early start in Dublin.

Last Post at the Menin Gate

The evening cooled slightly and I hit for the Menin Gate early enough to get a “good viewing spot”. Winston Churchill actually wanted the town of Ypres to be left in ruins as a memorial to the million men who fought in the Salient. The people of Ypres had a different idea and began to rebuild their homes. It was agreed that a memorial arch would be constructed at the Menin Road exit from Ypres, a road that tens of thousands of soldiers had taken on their way to trenches. The names of almost 55.000 missing soldiers are inscribed on the walls.

At exactly 8pm the MC called for silence and one of our group Andy gave the opening address:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

You could hear a pin drop and then every one answered: “We will remember them”. In this stillness, the “Last Post” is sounded in honour of the lost soldiers. You could not but be moved by this tribute to courage and self-sacrifice of almost an entire generation – more than soldiers, they were fathers, brothers, sons.

Lovely restaurant on the square with outdoor eating attracted me and I had a delicious Scampi all’aglio with Pinot Grigiot. Imelda and Breda from tour were also there and they told me about the Irish memorial to the soldiers of Munster at the Cathedral – so I strolled up there after dinner.lovely to see the bit of Gaeilge!

DAY 3 THE RED TRAIN FROM RIVESALTES TO AXAT

Our bus driver dropped us at what was little more than a siding in Espira de l’Agley – Rivesaltes station was closed for renovations.

Our cheery little red train arrived and following a meet-up with members of the restoration committee we were off. Our guide informed us that we were particularly lucky to be travelling on this model called the Picasso. It is known to locals as the Train du Pays Cathare et des Fenouilledes.

The scenery was amazing as we travelled up the Agly valley between the Coberes mountains. The Aude part of the line took us through the Cathar Country forests with frequent stops to allow for lots of photo opportunities.

There were tunnels and viaducts, views of the Quéribus Castle hanging on a rock and the UNESCO fortress of Puilaurens. We even experienced how the little train had to reverse back the valley to get a ‘run’ at the climb up into Axat. We all got a copy of “LA GAZETTE TRAIN ROUGE” – I’ll have to brush up my French to read through it at some stage.

Axat itself was a sleepy town where we sat in a bar beside the river to prep for the return journey to Roses.

DAY 4 FIGUERES

Margaret, our guide was a scream – every morning she greeted us with an enthusiastic “Today is not a day to be missed” and the focus on the Dali Theatre-Museum today was certainly “an opportunity of a lifetime”.

My very limited knowledge of Dali amounted to knowing that his pictures often were of deconstructed bodies, he had painted a melting clock and an elephant on spider legs.

But I’m always open to new experiences and Margaret presented quite an interesting history of Dali as we drove to Figueres. The heart of the museum is the town’s theatre that Dalí knew as a child (hence the name Theatre/Museum).

It was where one of the first public exhibitions of young Dalí’s art was shown. The old theatre was burned during the Spanish Civil War and remained in a state of ruin until in 1960, when Dalí and the mayor of Figueres decided to rebuild it as a museum dedicated to the town’s most famous son. The museum now includes buildings and courtyards adjacent to the old theatre.

The museum displays the largest and most diverse collection of works by Salvador Dalí, many of which were from his own personal collection. In addition to Dalí paintings from all decades of his career, there are Dalí sculptures, three-dimensional collages, mechanical devices, and other curiosities from Dalí’s imagination.

A highlight was a three-dimensional installation of the face of Mae West (when viewed from a certain spot). I also liked the “take on the Sistine Chapel ceiling art, the Abraham Lincoln face, the “rainy” Cadillac, the Dali “Oscar statues”, the corridor of pencil drawings on Alice in Wonderland and the Jewellery.

DAY 1: ON THE WAY

There have been so many changes to the Costa Brava since my first visit with Shay 50 years ago – Lloret de Mar was our resort of choice then and it was just beginning to develop as a tourist attraction for the Irish holidaymaker. Sun, sea and sangria was the order of the day and we indulged in all.

The itinerary was slightly(?) different this time round with a variety of train trips into Pyrenees the focus of our visit. The sun split the blue, blue skies most days but UV Filter creams meant exposure to the rays was far more wisely done; the sea was too cold to even dip the toes so instead we promenaded along the esplanade building up our ‘steps’; we accompanied meals with some nice red wines rather than all night ‘booze-fests’.

The first and last days were mainly travelling days- the very early starts necessitated some recovery both days, although we did get a chance to do some exploring around the resort on our arrival.

We found a lovely restaurant close to the Hotel Monterey where we indulged in Tapas. Our hotel had hints of Fawlty towers, but the staff was lovely, including the handyman who had a few visits to make to us.

There was an emphasis on fish dishes in the dining room which suited us. Our fellow travelers were great craic so there was lots of laughing and chatting at table, in the bar and on trips.

DAY 2: CAP DE CREUZ NATURAL PARK ON THE ROSES EXPRESS

This train journey began in the town where we got the opportunity to see why Spanish residents are becoming increasingly concerned with the influx of tourists, concerns that stem from rising housing costs, strains on infrastructure, and the perception that tourism is not always sustainable or beneficial for local communities.

Roses was once a small fishing village has become a large conglomerate of hotels and villas all along the sea front and now extending into the adjoining hills.

The Cap de Creuz Park provides a barrier to the development. It is the first maritime-terrestrial natural park in Catalonia, encompassing both land and sea areas. Although not a trip for the faint-hearted as the train wound its way up and down narrow shale paths, it provided an ideal opportunity to see the wild ruggedness of the landscape and panoramic views of the Bay of Roses, seemingly the largest bay in Europe.

This Puig Alt route which we took, brought us around the reserve culminating with wine and biscuits at the highest point.

We took the local bus to Roses in the afternoon and found an amazing restaurant, Las Tablas, on a little back street. The tapas selection here was amazing – although the portion size meant our eyes were bigger than our stomachs – but delicious.